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Ubc Mtafcom
Edited by
L.

of tbe

East Series

CRANMER-BYNG
KAPADIA

Dr. S.

THE POEMS OF MU'TAMID

KING OF SEVILLE

WISDOM OF THE EAST

THE POEMS OF MU'TAMID

KING OF SEVILLE
RENDERED INTO ENGLISH VERSE BY

DULCIE LAWRENCE SMITH

WITH AN INTRODUCTION

Palm, thou

art

a stranger in the West." Abd-al-Rahmdn.

N* "%:
LONDON

JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.

1915

All Rights Reserved.

101815 5

?7
7 74.1

TO

MY MOTHER
The book that I began to the peaceful accompaniment of an English summer, is finished, and as I write these, the last words, within sound of the guns of a great war, it seems to

who dwell in tents are not the only wanderers. of Chance is steered at random and takes us to many strange places, and yet I think we all have our Oasis whither at times we may return, if not perhaps in person, at least in thought, for there we know the hot sun of the world will not torment us and the cool shadows will not have fled away. Therefore, although I almost as far from Oasis as was Mu'tamid at Aghmat from his, I can still send thoughts to you by this page, knowing that, unlike the King of Seville, I 6hall follow them later on ; for I no esdle and Oasis is not a mirage but a home.
that they

me

The Caravan

am

my

my

my

am

Fbancb, 1915.

NOTE
This volume does not by any means include all the poetical compositions of Mu'tamid. There are many more in the book of his poems which Ibn-al-Labbana made and called "The Falling of the Pearls and the Scattering of the Flowers." But though in spreading my net for these falling pearls I have allowed them to slip through the meshes here and there, the finest have not escaped, though I fear they have been sadly marred in the consequent setting. At the end of the volume I have added half-a-dozen poems by various celebrated writers who found at one time or another congenial company and a generous patron at the court of Seville ; not with any intention of a comparison unflattering to Mu'tamid, but on

was not the

the contrary to show that the brightness of his literary fame reflected lustre of a crown, and that he is fitted to hold his own among the professional poets of his time. " For," says Ibn Bassan, " Mu'tamid left some verses, beautiful as the bud when it opens to disclose the flower ; and had the like been composed by persons who made of poetry a profession and a merchandise, they would still have been considered charming, admirable, and singularly original." For the literal translations of the original Arabic, from which these English versions of Mu'tamid's poetry have been worked, I am indebted to Ismail Ali, the eminent Afghan scholar who was recently living in this country. The remaining verses are taken from the German of

Hammer- Purgstall.
D. L.
S.

CONTENTS
PAGB

Introduction

.11

The Poems of Mu'tamid

Appendix

.33 .55

EDITORIAL NOTE
The
object of the Editors of this series is a very They desire above all things that, in their humble way, these books shall be the ambassadors of good-will and understanding between East and West the old world of Thought and the new of Action. In this endeavour, and in their own sphere, they are but followers of the highest example in the land. They are confident that a deeper knowledge of the great ideals and lofty philosophy of Oriental thought may help to a revival of that true spirit of Charity which neither despises nor fears the nations of another creed and colour.
definite one.

L.
S.

CRANMER-BYNG.
A.

KAPADIA.

northbrook society, 21 Cromwell Road,

S.

Kensington, S.W.

10

THE POEMS OF MU'TAMID

INTRODUCTION
Of
West,
the

and

Wisdom of the East tlwt of a Sun that teas high

enlightened the
in the place of

Us

setting.

It would go ill with him who should declare south of the Pyrenees to-day that Spain did not belong wholly to the Spanish. True the Spaniard is a gentleman, but he is also a patriot, with a pretty skill in the use of the " daga," between which and oneself it were well to have the comfort of a mountain-range when making this statement. And yet it is true. Not that one would deny

them

their land, their cities, their commerce, or their " aguardiente these are entirely Spain's, and with respect to the " aguardiente " I thank God that they remain so, but by the eyes of Islam that contemplate you from many a Christian face, by every wild pomegranate that spreads its thorny fingers to the dust of the road, you shall know that there was once in Spain a power that has vanished and a glory that is not. Only in the elaborate buildings, the mosques and palaces
:

'

ll

12

THE BANISHED MOORS

scattered like jewels of a broken crown about the kingdom, do the Spaniards still cry it abroad, as who should set up the idols of an outlived faith, " Behold, what our fathers worshipped saying we worship no more." And yet it is least of all here, in the shells of their old power, that you shall feel the presence of the great Moors their absence yes, it speaks in every broken arch and sighs in the fading colours on the wall, but they have fled their palaces and the places of their delight in a world where, so said they, " to live soberly is not to live at all," and are gone into hiding till the day when the Sword of Islam shall conquer the earth, when once more the hordes of the Faithful shall come from the South, across the narrow waters, and when all " There is no God but Allah, the world shall say
:

and Muhammad is the prophet of Allah." But that were perhaps a long time to wait, and meanwhile it would be pleasant to think that sometimes they come back, these banished Moors, to haunt the fair terraced gardens and the pleasure houses with which it was their delight to adorn
the world they loved. Perhaps they do. Perhaps to that forest of marble that is the Great Mosque of Cordoba they come, the men who made it, to lie upon their faces and breathe the prayers of Islam perhaps sometimes the silence of San Jeronimo's monastery beside the Guadalquivir is broken by the splashing of Az-Zahra's
;

THE OASIS
;

13

fountains and the voices of the singing-girls of Abd-er-Rahman and perhaps to that place we call Seville, that once was Isbillah, comes one,

Mu'tamid, to walk in the olive-shaded gardens of

his Zahi.

they were in love with life, when fair that even their songs fall short of describing its beauty. And yet no wonder there sounds ever in their singing a strain of that melancholy that is so typical of the East for with all their Spanish delights, their groves of lemon and of orange and of olive with the spring-wonder of their blossoming, with all their

No wonder

life

was made so

pleasant shady places beside the broad rivers of Andalusia they were still the children of the

knowing well enough these unaccustomed marvels of much water and green leaves to be, if not a mirage, at least but an oasis in the history of their race, a place of rest in which it was permitted that the wandering tribe might pitch their tents and in the cool shadows take their
desert,

Surely Mu'tamid, lying in a ease for a night. trance of love and luxury in the moonlit gardens of Zahi, remembered the words of the Koran, saying in the name of the Merciful and Com" Lo, every nation hath its passionate God appointed time, the which when it is come they shall not delay by one hour, nor shall they hasten it." And even if such sad thoughts vexed him not, and if no such words of foreboding parted
:

14
his lips

THE OASIS

from those he kissed in the shadow of the it was hardly with surprise that he heard the striking of the appointed hour and perceived that even in his own reign the time was come to break camp and with a sigh renounce
cypress-trees, surely

the cool languor, the pleasant indolence of the

oasis.

This

is

not the place for a treatise on the Moors

in Spain, nor is it the object of this introduction to tie, as it were, a millstone of facts to the neck of the little volume of poems that follows and sink them in a flood of history. It is not even proposed to give the life-story of Mu'tamid from the days of his careless youth at Shilb,* " the Paradise of Portugal," to his death at Aghmat in poverty

and exile a life so picturesque and so eventful, so full of tears and passions, of battle, murder and of sudden deaths, is not to be told between
;

and subject, nor in the book of his songs meet to dwell too much upon his sorrows. I come to praise Csesar, not to bury him, and it matters little whether he died at Aghmat or at
title-page
is it

Mequinez, in 1095 or in 1100 neither is it of great importance to know the extent of his
;

* "

One

of its marvels," says Qazwini, referring to the

town of Shilb (Silves) "is the fact, which innumerable persons have observed, that the people of that place with few exceptions are makers of verse and devoted to belles-lettres if you should pass a labourer standing behind his plough and ask him to recite some verses, he would at once improvise on any subject that you might demand."
;

SULTAN, VIZIER,
dominion

AND SULTANA

15

save that it was very wide and that princes kissed the foot of Mu'tamid or the names of those who were his enemies, and slew his children, and drove him from the land. The songs of his exile are few compared with the fervent verses of his Andalusian years, and of these the most frequent and the most beautiful are the love-poems of his happier days. Let us therefore take example by Mu'tamid himself and

many

concern ourselves less with conquests and intrigues, with the babel of courts and the plots of thwarted ambition, and in the noon-day of this Western Islam let us shade our eyes and look at the sun. To speak of the private life of him who was Sultan in Seville for twenty-two years, is also inevitably to tell the tale of two other lives, so of Ibn Ammar, closely are they linked with his his Grand Vizier, the companion of his youth and the sorrow of his later years, and of Itimad, called Rumaikia, who was Sultana in the palace of her lord the Sultan, and who sleeps beside him under the lotus in the place of his exile. If he was unfortunate in his friendship, at least he had nothing to regret in his choice of a wife and as surely as the Vizier's faithlessness had its punishment, so had Rumaikia's loyalty its reward. For Mu'tamid was faithful among a race that countenanced the taking of several wives and whose Paradise was a place of houris, it might
:

16

RUMAIKIA

even be said that he was strangely faithful to her. It must not be supposed that she was the
only

own

woman to move his passionate heart his verses bear witness to the fascinations of
;

others, yet in spite of Salma's charms, of the sword-like eyes of Saif and the splendour of

Quamar, and although Rumaikia is so seldom mentioned by name in the poems, it is to her that he writes
:

" Impatient of the guide me,"

bridle,

'tis

but thy email hands

may

and to her, and her alone, he says " For ever." That she was one after his own heart the very
:

circumstances of their romantic meeting will show not with the ceremony of courts, nor in the privacy of royal apartments, but in the fair riverside gardens of Seville did Fate lead them together, in the " Silver Fields " where the lesser ones of the earth were wont to meet and love and linger, and where, after the pleasant fashion of those old and less punctilious times, it delighted the prince himself disguised to walk also. The evening was fine and a light wind plucked at the surface of the shining water, so that it broke into a thousand points of fire, and glittered as a coat which thing of mail in the late, level sunlight striking the fancy of the poet-prince,
;

" Behold a breastplate welded by the breeze,"

THE EXTEMPORE POETESS

cried he,

17

line that

Ammar to supply a should complete the couplet. Extempore poetry was a conceit much in favour with these cultivated " barbarians," and he who could turn a neat verse or two on the inspiration of the moment was held in great esteem. But while the stately Ibn Ammar, bowing towards his master, hummed and hawed awhile to gain time for the apt reply that should slide like honey from his accustomed tongue, there spoke a soft voice at his elbow, saying
and turned to Ibn
:

"

And

fitted for the warrior,

would

it

freeze."

Beaten on his own ground, for the vizier was noted for the quickness and skill of his improvised verses, Ibn Ammar turned to confront his rival, and behold, a young girl of the slaves, a flush of triumph flooding her cheeks beneath the conventional veil, and in the eyes above it a roguish
smile at the discomfiture of the glib courtier. But his was not the only astonished look that flashed upon the slave-girl, and hers was not the only heart that beat the faster for her little victory calling an attendant eunuch to his side, Mu'tamid gave whispered instructions and hurried back to his palace, whither the extempore poetess was quickly conducted, and from that day Itimad called Rumaikia because she had been Rumaik's slave ruled the heart of Mu'tamid, to the horror of the ministers of religion who held
;

18

THE SPRIGHTLY SULTANA

themselves responsible for the soul of the young and to whom the doings of this sprightly Sultana were a source of endless consternation. For indeed the distracting little tyrant ruled her devoted lord with a rod of iron whims to call her capricious were hardly to do justice to the extravagance of her ideas, and her determination to see them realised was only equalled by the ingenuity of Mu'tamid, whose wiles for humouring the exacting lady were endless. She weeps at the sight of other women on the river-bank treading out the clay with their bare feet for the making of bricks, envying them the freedom and, child-like, the mud of their occupation, whereupon Mu'tamid orders the courtyard of the palace to be covered with musk and camphor and ambergris and other precious things dear to the Eastern heart, which with much rose-water was kneaded into a clay-like and costly mess fit even for the feet of Sultanas. One would think him beaten when at Cordoba in the early time of the year her tears again flow (ah, those easy tears that still play havoc with husbands !) at sight of the uncustomary snow drifting past the palace windows and masking the world with a strange and " Oh, cruel," she complains, lovely whiteness. " how could you keep this pretty thing a secret from me ? So many winters have I lived at thy side and never seen the snow But now let me at least have it every year, or surely thou dost
prince,
;
!

RUMAIKIA IN EXILE

19

not love me at all." Even a prince might well be suspected incapable of solving such a problem. But Mu'tamid was not only a prince, he was also a poet, and because of Rumaikia it was commanded that the Sierra of Cordoba be planted with almond-trees, that should fill the first spring winds with a little blizzard and cover the And so fresh spring grass with a dancing frost. there was snow each year in Cordoba because of Rumaikia.

And
fancies,

yet

it

was

this

woman

of

whims and

harem, who followed her lord into exile, and shared the bitter crusts of his poverty and wept with him the tears of banishment. One is inclined to wonder sadly whether the dear, extravagant ways dropped from her in this new atmosphere like dry leaves from a transplanted rose, and to hope that sometimes, perhaps in the young spring days when the wind blew from the North with memories of ShilbandAz-Zahra to meet the returning swallows,
this spoilt darling of the

of her old vagaries came back to her perhaps in the prison of Aghmat she wept to her fettered lord for the moon which it were not less possible for him to grant her than anything else she might desire. Of Ibn Ammar there is more to tell than that he was the companion and Grand Vizier of Mu'tamid. For twenty-five years their lives were inseparable, from the time of their first meeting at Silves,

some shadow
;

20

IBN

AMMAR

when

as a young adventurer of twenty-one his wit and good company took the fancy of the still more youthful prince, to the more troublous times of 1078 when the shadows were beginning to fall '* I am great as the upon him who had said " Saddest and least foreseen of all shadows, sun Yet this sudden failing of so long a friendship. though Mu'tamid in his loyal heart had read no warning of it, it seems to have been revealed to Ibn Ammar long before he himself had any idea for it is told that of unfaithfulness to his master one night, when the prince had begged his vizier not to spoil the pleasure of a more than usually merry evening by a farewell, and the two friends slept together, Ibn Ammar was thrice roused by " Unhappy man, one day he a voice crying shall slay thee " Terrified at the warning words, and having like all Muhammadans a dread belief in omens and the supernatural, he left his pillows and crept to the porch, where he hid himself, intending to fly at daybreak for safety and Africa. But Mu'tamid, waking before sunrise and in a panic at missing his companion, had the palace searched, and the trembling and halfnaked vizier was discovered under a mat, from which undignified retreat he came forth blushing with shame and embarrassment to tell his story. The prince would have it that wine and not supernatural spirits had been the cause of the strange voices in the ears of Ibn Ammar, and so
:

EARLY DAYS
they finally laughed the matter
"

21
;

off between them and yet," as the Arab historian says, telling the tale, " when many days and nights had gone by, that which we shall recount later came to pass." But this is the one dark spot in the tale of those

early years that flowed along so pleasantly. After the manner of a more famous Sultan and his vizier, it delighted these two to put on nonentity with the garments of plain citizens and go with the breeze at random through the city, trusting that chance should take them the way that it did we have already seen, of romance and there are other stories of such " sub-rosa " doings that would have done credit to Harun-alRashid himself. But always the young gaiety of the prince is shown on the darker background of Ibn Ammar's rather caustic humour, and wit turned sour already by the storms of the world. On a certain Friday, on the way to the mosque, the familiar sight of the muezzin on his tower, crying sonorously the simple words of the Adan to the city below, strikes the mind of Mu'tamid with a poetical freshness, and he exclaims in the customary fashion of extempore verse
;

" Hark, to the hour of prayer the muezzin cries,"

and looks

to Ibn

Ammar

to continue the couplet

with his usual wit.

"Trusting that God forgives him

many

ies,"

22

THE

VIZIER'S AMBITION

vizier, and the shrug of his shoulders that surely accompanied the words still lingers But the prince is not in the mocking line. pleased, and comes to the muezzin's defence with

adds the

"

May he

be blessed, since by him the truth

is

sung,"

To which Ibn Ammar,

" Blessed
is

the

man
:

of early experience

in the falseness of the

world

he, provided he believes his tongue."

another man of small beginnings, the aims were greater than his prudence, and like many another who has propped the ladder of his ambition to a prince's shoulder, he fell by the impetus of his own ascent. Accounts are so conflicting, and contemporary historians so difficult to assimilate, that it can never be known whether Ibn Ammar was all his life a false friend whether for twenty-five to Mu'tamid or not years he played a dangerous game of deception to serve his own ambition and conceit, or whether the love that he was never tired of declaring in prose and verse for his prince was not after all a feigned thing, but an affection as real as that which he certainly received in return. One hesitates to ascribe to him the hypocrisy that could write such verses as those beginning " Alas, my prince " given later at the end of this volume, without the genuine emotion of the words. Naturally he had not attained to his

Like

many

vizier's

THE BREACH

23

abundant power without paying the usual price

of a corresponding number of enemies only too ready to seize upon the least opportunity of blackening the court favourite to the princely eyes, which opportunities the undeniable conceit of

the Grand Vizier afforded in plenty.

crisis

came

in

1078,

The when Ibn Ammar, having

received permission to visit the newly acquired city of Murcia, made his journey a triumphal procession and his entry into the city with all the dignity of a royal personage, putting on royal airs and divine graces hardly suited to an ambassador. Such savour of treason was rich to the nostrils of the court gossips, who hurried to whisper their various suspicions and scandalous certainties in the ear of Mu'tamid the prince, who had lost his eldest son by treachery three years before, and to whose heart the changes of fortune had already brought doubt and distrust in place of some of his old joyousness, believed the slandering tongues and looked for the first time with misgiving upon this twenty-five years' friendship. Even then a few words in each other's sight might have mended the breach though whether to Mu'tamid' s advantage or not, it were presuming too much to say but Ibn Ammar was at Murcia and his sovereign at Seville, and there is much mis;

chief in two hundred and fifty miles. There followed the inevitable exchange of letters, in which it must be admitted the vizier appears in anything

24

INFAMOUS LETTERS

but a favourable light. Bitter was the abuse and infamous the language with which he taunted the man by whose favour he held whatever power Mu'tamid, his ancestors, his children, was his and least pardonable of all in the Sultan's sight

Rumaikia
spitted

herself

are

held

up

to

ridicule,

upon

his scurrilous pen, in these letters

which Time, that unmercifully destroys so much,

has unmercifully preserved. " Thou hast chosen among the daughters of the people," cries he who was himself born in a hovel, " Rumaik's slave, whom her master would gladly have bartered for a yearling camel. She hath borne thee wantons for daughters and little dwarfs that shame thee for sons. Mu'tamid, I will blaze abroad thy dishonour I will rend the veil that covereth thy
;

sins

"
!

For the moment Fate took the punishment of such baseness out of Mu'tamid's hands. There was trouble born of treachery in Murcia the soldiers of Ibn Ammar, clamouring for their arrears of pay, threatened to hand him over to the outraged prince, and rather than confront the anger of the man whom he had so grossly insulted, he tied the court of Murcia and the scenes of his latest and final arrogance. For some time he wandered from one Spanish court to another, finding them all dreary or uncongenial after the brilliance of Seville and Cordoba, till at last chance and the trickery of the Beni Sohail threw
;

THE FALL OF IBN AMMAR

25

him a prisoner into the castle of Segura, whence Mu'tamid purchased him, castle and all, like so much bartered property. So he who had set out from Seville with flying of silken flags and beat of drum, returned to that city, an unlamented prisoner, drooping with chains and mounted on a baggage-mule between two sacks of straw, to face the gibes and reproaches of those whom he had so grievously offended. But he was not without
friends among the persons of importance who surrounded the Sultan, and to this fact, together with the promising protraction of his imprisonment at Seville, he clung with all the feverish hope of the drowning man. Probably the prince was loath to take the final step in summoning the executioner to break the last link of what was once a friendship, and Ibn Ammar lost no time in taking advantage of this hesitation, writing endless urgent letters to such influential people as would speak on his behalf, till Mu'tamid, annoyed by their innumerable petitions, forbade the prisoner to be provided with any more writing materials. But so earnestly did he beg to be allowed to write yet once more, that he was given ink-horn, reed, and two sheets of paper, upon one of which he set down a long poem so touching that the prince was moved to grant him an interview, and all might yet have been mended had not Ibn Ammar, in a reaction of joy at this new hope, used the other sheet of paper for a

26

THE END OF IBN AMMAR

one Rasliid, in which he much over-

letter to

estimated the success of the interview, boasting already of friendship regained and power reAlas, he who has many enemies should stored. As surely as if beware what he sets on paper he had written it upon the palace-wall, the contents of this letter came to the royal eyes, and at last at this new show of arrogance the blood of his father, Mu'tadid the man who slew his own son and made a garden of the skulls surged to the brain and sang in of his enemies snatching a heavy battlethe ears of Mu'tamid axe, he sped up the narrow stairs and past the guards, until he stood in the small prison-chamber with his friend but a friend who dragged great chains and fell at his feet covering them with And there was murder done. tears and kisses. It is strangely in keeping with the justice of things that after this terrible act of vengeance, which cannot be vindicated however deep the
!

offence of Ibn Ammar, Fortune seems to have turned her head from Mu'tamid, though it is true his change of luck came through trouble that had been long a-brewing. It was specially and fatally characteristic of the Moorish princes that, however capable of great power and magnificence and the glory of wide dominions, they were totally unable to work in harmony. Even the fear of a common enemy in the Christian king Alfonso VI, who was lord of Leon, Castile, Galicia, and

THE MAN WHO RELIED ON GOD

27

Navarre, with every intention of including the rest of Spain in the catalogue before long, could not keep them from their incessant quarrels, and the wily Alfonso was probably as well aware " The hand of God as any Arab of the proverb is with the united company." As for Mu'tamid (which may be interpreted as " the man who relies on God"), it seems that he lived up to his name so literally that he neglected to rely also upon himself to hold his wide kingdom together and govern a people who were not, according to most authorities, best pleased with their ruler. It is difficult to sift the truth from contradictory narratives and to determine whether Mu'tamid was really very dissipated or his subjects singularly prudish, but at any rate they appear to have looked upon him more as a warning than
:

an Arab historian accuses him " indulging in many reprehensible excesses, such as the drinking of spirituous liquors, and listening to music and the singing of female slaves." In defence of the first, there is of course nothing to be said, save that he sinned in good as for the other charges, they are company crimes of which we too would gladly be impeached, " reprehensible excesses " in which one might indulge without much trouble to the conscience, and cry out upon the dull dog of an historian and his unmusical ear. Certainly if this be the extent of Mu'tamid's private failings

an example
gravely
of

28
it

ALFONSO AND THE INFIDELS

is not easy to understand his avouched unpopularity. But there may have been worse things perhaps the historian in the kindness of his heart has concealed a record of crimes even blacker than the possession of an ear for music and a discriminating taste in female slaves, that if revealed would justify the people of Seville and the South who murmured against their master.
;

The

chief

ibn Tashifin, the King of the Veiled Men or Berbers of the Sahara, who came at the request of the Andalusians themselves to wield the sword of Islam against the armies of the Christian king. For Alfonso had sworn a great oath by the Trinity and all the saints, being much enraged at the reception of a Jewish messenger sent by him to Mu'tamid it appears that that somewhat hottempered Sultan aimed an inkpot at the Jew's head with such effect that it lodged in his skull and so the chronicler declares, with questionable regard for anatomy " his brains fell down his
:

Mu'tamid's

outward overthrow

and was

visible

agent

of

one

Yusuf

throat."

Upon news
:

of

which reflected insult

Alfonso cried "I will lay waste the infidel's dominions with warriors numerous as the hairs of my head, and I will not halt until I reach the straits of Gibraltar," and proceeded to carry out these threats with alarming literalism (though it is probable that the number of his warriors

"

SET FORTH,
excused the
little bald),

ANDALUSIANS

"

29

hardly

was a

metaphor, unless Alfonso riding his horse into the foam

: !

" Behold, I have reached at Tarifa and crying the farthest extremity of Spain " at which

performance Mu'tamid, who was not without a sense of humour, must have smiled. But with all his boastfulness and posturing, Alfonso was a real menace to the Moslem princes, who began at last to realise that an opposition broken by dissension and riddled with petty quarrels was but a poor wall to set between the Castilian's strength and their own rapidly increasing weakness. Already the poets of the day were crying " Set forth, O Andalusians, upon your journey, But emigration for it is madness to remain " did not appeal to these Arabs who had enjoyed for so long the delights of their Spanish paradise
: !

it

was more after their heart to call " Help " than to swim for the bank, and accordingly Yusuf was appealed to and landed with his Berber hordes at Algeciras by the special invita!

tion of Mu'tamid.

Two men more

these

opposite in personality than

two rulers it were difficult to imagine. Yusuf was a barbarian of the barbarians, and the eloquence and culture of the Sevillian king were a daily source of bewilderment and but halfconcealed scorn, while Mu'tamid's long, adulatory poems and quotations were a hopeless puzzle. *' Whilst thou art far from me," he reads, " the

YUSUF IBN TASHIFIN desire of seeing thee consumes my heart and I weep floods of tears. Alas, my days are black, " yet not long ago thou madest my nights white
30
\

doth the king desire me to send him black damsels as well as white ones ? " he asks in despair, and the allegory having been expounded Tell to him, he exclaims: "How beautiful! the king that I have a headache whenever he is
out of

"

Now

my

sight."

With such an uncongenial ally it is hardly surprising that Mu'tamid was not long in accord. True he had not been without warning, from those who knew the Berber character, of the
danger of bringing this unscrupulous barbarian
into Spain, setting before his covetous eyes, still burning with the desert sand, the fair fruits and the pleasant waters of Andalusia. But Mu'tamid, dreading submission to a Christian king more than any earthly disgrace, replied in the now " Better a camel-driver in Africa famous words than a swineherd in Castile." Alas, not even the Overcome, freedom of a camel-driver was his as it was inevitable he should be, by the hordes that swept from the South across the narrow straits (the very way the Moors themselves had
: !

come

his last stronghold at Seville,

down

in their time), fighting like a wild thing in he is at last borne by the invaders in his palace, sword in

hand, in the midst of the sack and pillage of his beloved city.

THE EXILE

31

After this, it seems scarcely the same Mu'tamid, that great man, whom we see sailing down the Guadalquivir southward for Africa and exile. And yet we recognise him, for even in his need he was generous, and in poverty he was yet a benefactor. At Tangier, whither he was first deported, the poet Husri presented him with a volume containing, as the Arab historian has it, " selections from the best poets." Alas, the
lost, his freedom but lately murdered was hardly in a condition to appreciate even the best poets, but it was not his way to receive a gift without making return for it, and taking the sum of thirty-six ducats, the shrunken relic of his wealth, from his shoes where they had been hidden on leaving Seville, he sent them, still stained by his bleeding feet, to Husri with a few verses apologising for his enforced meanness. It is said that the ungracious poet did not even thank him, in which case one can only hope that he is not at all happy

unhappy man

his

kingdom

forfeited, his son, Razi,

in

Jahannam.

to Mequinez, an incident of which journey is recorded on page 51, and from there to Aghmat, which is

From Tangier Mu'tamid was taken

not far from Morocco. Here Rumaikia fell dangerously ill, wearying no doubt in this dry, unfriendly land for the pleasant places of Andalusia. Whether or not she died before her lord is uncertain, but one is inclined to hope that she


32

AGHMAT

who had never turned from him

in life did not forsake him in his long dying, and that the bitterness of this final loss was withheld from him whom Fate already had so cruelly robbed. At any rate they were not long parted. Over the king of Seville, in a land far from the place of his birth, was chanted the hymn of the stranger, the simple words with which the pilgrim, dying in a strange land, is consigned to the dust of an unknown, and the grave of him who was untrodden road a mighty man in Andalusia is distinguished says Ibn al-Khatib two centuries later by "a gentle eminence." And with these strangely appropriate words let us close the tale of Mu'tamid. For though his sun of power went down so long ago that the West has forgotten the colours of his glory, and though the kingdom for which he gave his blood and his children and the years of his life now bows to other rulers, another faith, yet among a beauty-loving race he still preserves by reason of those lines which wars have not scattered nor Time effaced a gentle eminence.
;

OF THE PLACE OF HIS YOUTH

Friend, greet at Silves many a pleasant spot We knew, and if they recollect us not, Say I remember them, though far away. To Sharajib, my palace, thou shalt say " Greeting The young man who saluteth thee Longs for thy joys and thy tranquillity." Ah me, what nights among the sculptured halls I dallied, where between the selfsame walls Mingled the lion and the lithe gazelle, Damsel and warrior and it was well. Sweet nights, when maidens, fair and dusky-eyed, With looks more sharp than javelins to the side Between their lashes, pierced me all about, Great was the assault and sudden was the rout Sweet nights, sweet nights, beneath the con!

summate moon

To
Of

live,

kisses

and love, and plead, and crave a boon by the dusky river-side
33

From
3

one, a singing damsel, subtle-eyed.

34

OF THE PLACE OF HIS YOUTH

Fair as the image of the moon was she Upon the lake, and fired the blood of me With lips and looks and wondrous wine. And last She took the painted lute, and having passed Deft fingers o'er the strings, she played an air, A martial air faster and yet more fast
;

Thundered my blood, and clash of arms was War-cries and battle-music everywhere

there,

then O sweetest moment of the night Casting the girdle and the robe aside, She stood in living beauty to my sight, All marvellous. " Behold, the bud," I cried, " Hath broken and the flower is opened wide

And

"
!

THE FOUNTAIN
The
sea hath tempered it the mighty sun Polished the blade, And from the limpid sheath the sword leaps forth
;

Man hath not made

better in
steel

Hath

Damascus though for slaughter somewhat advantage over water.

THE PHYSICIAN

35

THE PHYSICIAN
Pale fingers of The garment
the drowsy

dawn have

rent

of the night,

and thou, beloved,

discontent

Tearest the sad weeds of

my

With dawn-tipped

And To

Wherefore I invent medicine from the moisture of thy lips from the roses that thy cheeks have lent,
fingers.

cure

my

melancholy.

THE DESERT OF JOY

Sleep
clogs our eyes. The camels of Delight, Spent with their journey o'er the burning sands,
for their drivers' singing in the night

Long

Of the

oasis

and the greener

lands.

Then to the caravan of Pleasure send One with the voice of water and the speech Of eloquence, to cheer the way and mend With a new soul the weary limbs of each.

36

THE DESERT OF JOY

And
let the silver music of the lute Attend our going, as a sure road-mark, And that which fills the cup be substitute For stars to guide our journey in the dark.

SAIF

They

called her

Saiif,

the Sword,

who

carries a

sword,

glittering brand,
;

In either dark eye Saiif, why take to thy hand Three weapons, when one were more than a man could withstand ? Thou Sword, drawn to slay me

In the glint of those blades whose sheath is a sweeping lash, The droop of a lid, Hath she dazzled us both, from herself her own charms are not hid. We are prisoners bound by their brightness but
;

Allah forbid I should break from

my

prison

THE DRAUGHT OF LOVE

37

THE DRAUGHT OF LOVE

Cool is the water in the cup I pass For thy cool lips' refreshment but alas, This, where my lips have lingered after thine, Is no cool water but a burning wine.
;

LOVE'S MENDICANT

They spake me
This grief of

and said " Forgo this pain, love." They counselled me in vain
fair
:

Loving

my

grief, I

count

it little

gain

With
I

grief to part.

My

never thought to give in such meek wise heart away to one whose distant eyes Scorn my salutes, nor see me with surprise Standing apart.

hard of heart, give back the life I gave In greeting to thee, greet me, thou, and save Me, weary for thy presence, from the grave, hard of heart


38

THY GARDEN

THY GARDEN
My
No
thoughts are as a garden-plot, that knows rain but of thy giving, and no rose Except thy name. I dedicate it thine, garden, full of fruits in harvest-time.

My

LOVE, THE CRAFTSMAN

time I went from thee to other lands my soul between his glowing hands, And turned it all about and tortured it and minded not a whit Ah, cruel Love Because my poor soul at his fervent breath

What

Love took

Was melted, ev'n as iron that softeneth Upon the forge lo, on my cheek appears
;

Love's handiwork

my molten soul in tears.

ON A SHIELD

39

ON A SHIELD
Tis a
fair shield, and fashioned as the sky, For Night and Day therein are compassed

Behold, the Pleiades that prophesy

Victory, are here, and all about is set girdle of pure gold shining as the Sun Tiptoe upon the Eastern parapet The glories of the morning and the night. And as the longest spears are impotent To reach the target of the starry height Or strike the clouds of heaven as they go by,Surely this shield is fashioned as the sky.

A LETTER
Fain would I write to thee, and great display Of reed and scroll have I, and naught to say But that my heart is hotter than noon-day.

Beloved, while the poor reed halts and lingers, Tracing strange patterns in my heedless fingers, The long, slow tears Make bold to write upon my tell-tale cheek In a clear hand the things I dare not speak.

40

A LETTER

for this strife and warring after power might have corne to thee, as to the flower Nightly the dew, Once, only once, from thy warm sleep to wake

But
I

thee,

To

love thee for a night, and then forsake thee.

Dearest, the dewy rose would be for us The hour-glass of our ecstasy and thus, While the dew lies, Time should be slave to Love, till with the day The shaken rose-leaf cry " Away, away "
;
:

COMPLAINT
The days
'Tis

are long

ah me,

Though Fortune
but a

set thee

little while,

my crescent moon, sometimes in my sky, the morning's eye

Opens too soon.

Ah, wouldst thou by the roses of the spring But time thy absence could the falling flowers Restore thee, gladly would I bide the hours Of blossoming.
;

COMPLAINT
But
love, I think

41

By

thou reckonest the days the soft roses of thy cheeks, that bloom
;

Without an autumn

then

it is

my doom

To wait

always.

QAMAR
The day was
Troubled
sultry

and the fervent sun

;

rose And that fierce planet, though with course half run, " so soon, so Sank straightway, crying soon, " sister Moon ? So early comest thou,
:

Then

my brow with radiance of high noon my tall Qamar, my glorious one,

Why

Then

all, they marvelled with a great surprise, Seeing the glory of the sun depart. Doubtless the great astrologers are wise, Yet even they, with all their cryptic art, Shall fathom not the secrets of my skies For lo, the moon that rose before their eyes Sinks in my heart.
;

42

PROOF OF TEARS

PROOF OF TEARS
Fain would

my Love deny the speech Of its slow tears, But can these eyes feign gladness when from each Appears The crystal stream that shames me when I say " I care not that my love is gone away " ?
:

THE FAITH OF THE KING

He whom
:

the crowd hath smitten, because he hath prophesied, " Behold, it is written, Mu'tamid shall Saying
" pride Let him not be cursed of all, for doubtless he speaketh the truth Shall not our greatness fall ? Kings, we have puissance in sooth For a day 'tis a loan from Allah, and Allah shall
fall in his
!

take

away
so the

All glory bought of valour, all wealth, prophets say.

THE FAITH OF THE KING

Yet though He may

43

strip from me my glory that shone as the sun, Though I be bound that was free, not yet shall my light be done. I am great as the sun in the skies I am mighty, and who shall stand Before my throne in such wise that he hideth the sun from the land ? We know that Time shall betray us, we know that the years shall be A dagger of steel to slay us, a chain to fetter the
;

free

And

because of these things the fountains shall run with our tears, shall flow As the melting of snow in the mountains, but blood shall run with the snow Children of Ma-al-Sama, famed is your ancient
!

line

From Heaven
your race

to al-Hutama,
is

and the fame

of

mine

And

the eyes of the manifold lands are upon us, we are great, Great as the Sun when he stands in gold at the Eastern gate Yet neither the world shall win us, nor the treasure of earth shall please, Because of the faith that is in us, for Allah is more
for lo,
;

than these.

44

TO SALMA, FROM BATTLE

TO SALMA, FROM BATTLE

Salma, Salma, have In the glow of the
I I forgotten thee
?

fight

remember the night

When we
And we

parted
!)

(Axe on sword, sword on mace

stood face to face Burning-hearted. In the forest of spears Thy vision appears

To confound me

When

the battle-alarms Threaten, Salma, thy arms

Salma, Salma,

Are around me. I have remembered thee

SINCE

AM REFT OF THEE
I am reft of thee solace can there be

Since

What
In
all

the world for

me

SINCE

AM REFT OF THEE

45

When

that consoler, Sleep,

With her soft hands would reap The mournful hours I keep.

Gently

bid her go
fair,

And on my

my

foe,

Her amaranth bestow.

Let sleep whose grey wing makes Our dreams, and beauty wakes As wind on summer lakes,

leave thee desolate thou art old, and wait For Death to loose the gate.

Not

When

IN ABSENCE

Thy
I

absence, love, torments

Iblis' fire,

me

with the pains of

am drunken with my desire.

the burning wine, the wine of


46

IN ABSENCE
heart
is

My

empty
?

for thee

what are

my

songs

but sighs

My

lips are

lacking thine, and the lashes of

will

my

eyes

Have sworn they

sight of me,

not meet until thou stand in

Remember,

beloved, and reward

my

constancy.

ACROSTIC
I hold thee ever in prays

my

heart

absent,

Mu'tamid

his tearful nights may be thy pleasant days, impatient of the bridle, 'tis but thy small hands may guide me desire is all a longing till I see thee stand beside me. Ah., love of mine, the days increase, forget not

That endless as

My

.Dear

Ibn Abbad. name, I trace

Itimad.

it

on

my

heart for ever

GO NOT, BELOVED AND CRUEL

47

GO NOT, BELOVED AND CRUEL

Go
I have not strength not, beloved and cruel farewell to thee, thou canst not go tears at length Behold the fountain of Consumed away, and I have sorrowed so
;

To say

my

That

No

in the dry wells of these barren eyes more, no more thy treasured image lies.

Alas,

what love is this that burns like fire ? Look thou, my body is a useless thing, So worn it is, so wasted with desire, I am grown lean with love the new days bring Only new pains that sap the blood of me,
;

Because of thee, beloved, because of thee

And

whose sport was ever with the spear the glad music of the battle-cry, Who scorned to wear the panoply of Fear, The trappings of the prudent, even I,
I,

To

conqueror always
I cry
!

am

vanquished now.

Mercy

Yet merciless art thou.

48

NIGHT-LONG
NIGHT-LONG
Night-long she gave me,
sweet wine. The lute-strings in such
lips,

of her eyes

And

Her
skilful

fingers struck

wise scattered notes that angels pluck From their gold instruments the cup She gave was wine of Paradise, And the moon was up.

They

REQUEST
As
the day for the dew, as the earth For the rain-cloud above her,
in the season of dearth

As parched lands

For the summer's green cover, So I yearn for thy wine, O prepare Me the cup and bring hither, That my earth may be watered and

fair

And my

green leaves not wither.

HOPE
Hope
still,

STILL,
heart,

MY HEART
cavil not at sorrow
of the year,
;

my

and

Grief

and

disaster

Are but the moonless seasons And day comes faster Because the night was dark. Garden of gladness,

pleasant Zahi,

How many a night hast thou My sweet love-madness ?

been witness to

HOPE

STILL,

MY HEART

49

But other kings have loved at other seasons, Taken their pleasure In other lands, and now hold naught of earth But their own measure. Grief and Delight, these twain shall never cry
Truce to contention
Till

Death

shall

come and

in a little sleep

Sink the dissension.

THE PHILOSOPHER PENITENT

Then must
Thou
I lose my all of joy to thee, plunderer, Time, and thief of my delight, And in my cup of sadness shall there be No lingering lees of my felicity ?

True, I have been of late no little while A stranger to the lute-string and the cup Sweet looks, and tremulous eyes, and subtle smile Have tempted not, nor crafty ringers' guile.
;

And now

behold, my head is waxen grey, Yet not with plenitude of years and lo, My limbs are lean, my flesh consumed away, Yet not with waste and ravage of decay,
;

50

THE PHILOSOPHER PENITENT

I have sinned, and mocked the wise, fouled the fountain of my hopes. Alas, spring of youth is muddied and there rise waters but the salt tears of these eyes.

But because

And

My
No

But I will chide my sorrow, I will speak " Hence, Thus to my weeping, saying
:

my

tears

And, sad heart, strew not upon my cheek These symbols of the coward and the weak."

For

if

the shaft of Destiny hath quit

The bow of Fate, whose hand shall be so skilled To pluck the flying arrow back ? Whose wit Shall by a hair's breadth change the course of it ?

ours, not ours, who spend our little time Tracing a broken couplet on the sand, Till, wearied of the pleasant pantomime, Death, the great poet, adds the lacking rhyme.

Not


TEARS OF THE WORLD
51

TEARS OF THE WORLD

Weep
for me, friends, for now that I am hence, Lo, in Time's dust the footprints of my pride Lament, strong lions of my great defence,

Shed

tears,

my

young

gazelles

and dewy-eyed

Look ye, the cold stars even Weep, and the clouds lift not

in the height
their

mournful night.

Weep, Wahid, weep, and Zahi with the towers, Weep ye for him that shall not come again. All waters of the earth, all dew and showers Have tears for Mu'tamid, and the summer rain That once strewed pearls upon him, is become A gea-wave full of sand and sound and foam.

ON THE ROAD
They
(It

With clouds about

passed with ceremony and with song, their feet they passed along is a dusty highway from Tangier.)


52

ON THE ROAD
for rain,

Bound
I

for the mosque were they, praying was a prisoner and I wore a chain
(It is

a long, white road to Mequinez.)

" Brothers," said I, " what need to seek so high ? Behold, I bear a cloud in either eye Are not my tears enough ? Ye shall have no parched lands nor barren years." " Truly," quoth they, " but these thy proffered
;

tears

Are dark with blood,

prince

"
!

THE EXILE FROM ZAHI

There

And

lies an exile in a stranger's land, in another land an empty throne

Laments, and certain spears that rusted stand Mourn for the Sheikh Mu'tamid, overthrown.
Zahi, the clouds that linger in the skies With dew of tears for thy forsaken grass, Grieve for the time when fate was otherwise, And murmur to the winds a soft " Alas "
!

THE EXILE FROM ZAHI

Time, thou cheat and cozener of men, hate thee, Time, that with such sorry wit Exalts our greatness to the stars, and then Into the dust of Nothing tosses it.
I

53

Alas,

how fares my pleasure-house to-night ? Sway Zahi's waters to the warm night-breeze
doves with their old delight
mysteries in the olive-trees
?

And do the soft Murmur dear

know not. But I know that, cold, austere, And glittering keenly on a rain-washed sky,
:

"0 hear, Stand the great Pleiades and cry Listen, ye kings, to us that prophesy
" There went a ruler from this pleasant spot,

Even Mu'tamid, mighty

in his

day

And

peradventure he returneth not, But that which Allah wills shall none gainsay."

Therefore to Allah shall my heart complain, And He will surely grant me, being most

Avise,

My

garden and

If I resign

my singing-girls again, my place in Paradise.


54

WOO NOT THE WORLD

W 00 NOT THE WORLD

T

W oo
T

not the world too rashly, for behold,

Beneath the painted silk and broidering, It is a faithless and inconstant thing. (Listen to me, Mu'tamid, growing old.)

And we that dreamed youth's blade would never

rust,

Hoped
sand

wells from the mirage, roses from the

The

riddle of the world shall understand

And put on wisdom

with the robe of dust.

APPENDIX
EPITAPH FOR HIMSELF

My

share of life is finished death-bed. Did he not die, our father

am

laid
also,

On my

Adam,

And Muhammad
Dead

are the princes and the potentates

shall wake them. death, that Tell them that triumph at Shall overtake them.

And none

my

Death

Muhammad

ibn Ibrahim.

TO HIS MASTER
WHO
SAID
I

"

COME, IF ALLAH AND IBN "

AMMAR

PERMIT

Alas,

my

prince, I

have no power to stay thee,

journeyest, I pray thee,
65

Not so, not so, But wheresoe'er thou

56

TO HIS MASTER

As thou

art lightning to my darkened way, Grant me to go Ever with thee thou canst not say me nay, For it is fitting so.
;

Take thou a shallop

swifter than thy wit,

I will be The ripple running at the stern of it. Ride, ride, with none beside thee anywhere

And

And

I will

be
hair,

The long wind striving at thee by the Thou shalt not go from me.

But when at last thy palace courts are won, The last long mile Forgotten in her sight, when thou shalt run, With sword still girt, to claim thy journey's cost,
Paid in a smile,

To reap the wasted days and moments

I will

lost,

go hence awhile.

Ibn Ammar.

A COMPARISON
The
mole that dallies on her cheek a small black slave-boy, bidden to seek A posy in the garden see him stand, Weighing the choice, a rose in either hand
little

Is like

Among

the

lilies.

Nashdr.

NIGHT-TRYST

57

NIGHT-TRYST
made a tryst with her and as the sun Knelt to adore Qamar, the silver one, Softly as late sleep coming with the day, As wind across the lake, I stole away.
I
;

The pregnant night was heavy with the scent Of morning roses. In a mute content We kissed, and all the world lay in a swoon
Of sleep
;

none spied us but the wakeful moon.

And

as one reading in a scroll, to find

The meaning, skims the words, so we The joy of sundered kisses to attain
Knowledge
of lips that sever

resigned

not again.

And night, and my desire, kissed, and slept. And all things slumbered, till the sun's first fire Awoke us, and the pennons of the day.

We

night of

bliss,

farewell

is

hard to say.
ibn Sufra.

Muhammad


58

COUNSEL

COUNSEL
Friend,
I

would have you with a sharper wit

Be censor of the world, and if there be One gift, of all wherewith she makes so free, That shall endure, I fain would know of it.

and if her eye Neglect her proffered hand Be set against you, then, indifferent still, Take leave of her and wander as you will Under the clean stars and the unsecret sky.
;

Abu Muhammad

Abdalla.

THE FREEMAN OF THE WORLD

Tell rne,

If there be one glad fool beneath the sky, my vagrant heart, is it not I ?

My

camping

sees

no silken

flag unfurled,

Freely I go as water through the world, And if no pillows to my couch be spread Surely the arms are measured to the head


THE FREEMAN OF THE WORLD
No robes have I in musk and camphor lying, Having no goods, no heir shall vex my dying
;

59

Father nor son are mine, nor household cares To age my beard with white, unwelcome hairs. The wisdom of the market-place I see, Judged in the sun, is naught but vanity.

Abu Wahb

al-Abbdsi.

A QUESTION
The
Deep
stars,

the stars that

lit

Are

fallen in the garden,

see them
anemone

the darker hours

lie

in the grass, the white

flowers,

While the winds go by Languid with scent of ambergris and musk, Heavy as hunters' weary limbs at dusk With hue of wine were all the roses gay. " Sorrow and shame," Quoth I, " what are they ? " And the answer cam* " One day, my son, thy fading cheek shall say."
;

Ibn al-Sukak.

60

AGHMAT

AGHMAT
Low
The
thy palaces, and desolate Mii'tamid, of thy ancient state Yet at thy tomb we kiss, as it is meet, The dust with weeping from thy quiet feet.
lie

halls,

Nashdr.

Printed by Hazell, Watson

<t

Viney, Id.,

London and Aylesbury, Lngland.

THE WISDOM OF THE EAST

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